Reflection and Recognization
by Shadowhite
Summary: After losing a battle against the Hero of Truth, Hilda White, N goes to Sinnoh to reconsider his stance on freeing Pokemon. However, when his best ally Zekrom is separated from him, and he hears mysterious rumours of Ghetsis Harmonia coming to Sinnoh, he gets thrown into an adventure he never wished he'd gotten into, including learning about the secret behind the name Harmonia.


**Author's Note: My first fanfic! Yay!**

**So, to begin with, I'm Shadowhite. I've been a longtime lurker and I've read so many fanfics. Now, no offense, but a lot of people go out their way to make works based on their OC and use a repetitive storyline based on the regular Pokemon games. Few have actually explored the mysterious and quirky characters like N. And this is one idea I've been tossing around in my head for a while.**

**Without further ado, let us begin!**

Prologue: Metacognition

He hated the cold.

Absolutely hated it.

And why? Because he was Zinzolin, one of the seven respected sages of the peaceful, Pokemon-loving organization known as Team Plasma.

Though "was" would have been a better term to describe his powerful position. Recently, some strange girl known as Hilda White had stormed the castle they had built in secret over the last few years. He remembered the girl tossing aside the sages like rag dolls as she continued her hunt for their beloved king N.

Seriously, though, did no one have respect for their elders anymore?

While Zinzolin knew he could have easily defeated the Hilda girl in battle at the Cold Storage, he was plagued with despair. The promise of a perfect world where Pokemon would be free from the evil grasp of mankind was stolen away. Ironically, it may have been because his faithful Cryogonal always stayed by his side, refusing to leave. While Zinzolin did need a partner, he was diagnosed in his youth to be extremely sensitive to cold temperatures. And his mother decided to bring him a Cryogonal for his birthday present.

What an imbecile.

Fortunately, the two developed a strong bond that could endure even the harshest of winter storms.

However, he was having second thoughts about surrendering to the International Police and that odd Looker fellow. Team Plasma had been disbanded, Ghetsis had fled with those ninja underlings of his, and Hilda White and N had vanished off the face of the earth. But he was still a sage! His knowledge wouldn't be wasted in prison, oh no. He instantly regretted giving the stupid girl the TM he found in his travels. He wished for something, anything to happen. If this had been a movie, he would have said the extremely cliché line: "I'm too young to die!"

Sadly, the humour was lost on the fact that Zinzolin's hair, once a deep violet, had turned snow white during his time serving under Ghetsis in Team Plasma. He was getting old; and his protruding cheekbones and pale, wrinkly skin served to consolidate that fact. His vision was getting blurry again, and sometimes Ghetsis had to shout his orders seven times before he could pick up a sole word due to his stuffy ears. Often, the word was "kill," which Ghetsis used multiple times in a sentence. So he wasn't quite sure whether Ghetsis wanted someone dead, wanted to kill him, or wanted to commit suicide. It didn't really help his reputation at all.

And to top it off, Zinzolin was reaching an age that could only be represented by three digits. Yes, he was that old. His leathery skin and frail body would help supplement that piece of knowledge. He once boasted to Ghetsis: "I've read the Art of War by Sun Tzu and he was still alive when I got my copy!"

Ghetsis then asked: "Can I see?"

Zinzolin had handed him a paperback novel. Ghetsis then burst into a fit of uncontrollable and slightly maniacal laughter.

Ah, the good old days of Zinzolin and Ghetsis…

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden conversation by the two men in front of him. Imagine, thinking about how cold the inside of a car was and spiraling off onto a completely unrelated tangent about Ghetsis was only something a Plasma Sage could do.

"—put him into custody when we arrive at base," said Looker as he glanced at the rear mirror constantly, as if a car was following them.

"Yes, sir," replied the teenage boy with a salute. Looker was still driving though, so the gesture was wasted.

Looker squinted at the rear mirror yet again. "Hey, oldie, you done meditating yet? We're almost there."

Zinzolin was miffed. "Team Plasma members do not _meditate_."

Looker smirked. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sage. Try not to fall asleep though. You're getting old and I don't want to drag you into the station like a sack of skin and bone, which you are. Mighty fragile for an old chap like you."

Zinzolin's temper flared and he raised his hand to smack the insolent inspector. He forgot he was handcuffed, however.

Looker roared in delight as the young man in the front seat looked back at Zinzolin sympathetically and shrugged. Some police inspector Looker was.

Zinzolin began to wonder who the boy was; he obviously didn't talk much. Perhaps an assistant? Or one of Looker's dim-witted cronies. And then he began to wonder: Why do I think so much? Perhaps it's to satiate my knowledge, or to answer questions in my head, or maybe just because I'm bored. Hmm.

As Zinzolin began mentally rattling off reasons in his head as to why he was thinking about thinking, a loud bang interrupted his train of thought.

He saw the boy in the passenger seat slump down, with blood bursting out of his forehead. Looker whirled around and saw a black limo with some ninja guy holding a rifle on the roof of said limo.

The ninja fired again, hitting one of the tires. Looker tried to unsuccessfully save the car from crashing, but to no avail. The car smashed against an oak tree to the right of the narrow road we were traversing. As quick as a mouse, Looker whipped out his gun, exited the car, and fired at the ninja. The ninja ducked again and instead fired at a nearby tree. The bullet ricocheted off the rough bark and struck Looker in the shoulder. He screamed and collapsed onto the soft grass, wet with the morning dew. The bright green of the grassy path was slowly stained a dark crimson as blood oozed from the puncture. The ninja jumped off the black limo, who was coming to a stop. Two other ninjas exited and led the sage away from Looker. Zinzolin looked back and felt pity for the dying man.

"He needs help, boys."

"We'll worry about that later," said the smooth voice of the one person Zinzolin had hoped to see. Zinzolin looked at the tall, regal figure of Ghetsis Harmonia, with his tea-green hair falling in a messy wave down his shoulders. He wore an eye patch over his left eye and had handsome but slightly aging features. He had exchanged his fancy robe for a simple black cloak. His Hydreigon, Apocalypse, dozed quietly in the corner as it began to drool, leaking saliva from all three heads.

"Are you getting in, old friend?"

Zinzolin snickered and nodded. "Of course, Lord Ghetsis."

Ghetsis waved his hand carelessly. "Forget the Lord thing. I have a new plan."

Zinzolin laughed again, mirth dancing in his dark eyes. "I'd love to hear it."

The three ninjas wordlessly got in as the limo began to slowly cruise away from the misty forest path, leaving a dying Looker to wallow around in the mud. 

**And that's a wrap! That's the prologue to N's adventures during the two-year time ellipse between Pokemon BW and Pokemon B2W2. Let me know what you guys think, and remember, a beta reader is greatly appreciated!**

**Until next time, Shadowhite signing off!**


End file.
